


oceans between (you and me)

by museaway



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Bathtub Sex, M/M, Mermaids, Misunderstandings, Reunions, Soul Bond, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 04:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: After falling off his bike in the desert, Shiro is surprised to be rescued by the kid who’d saved his life seven years earlier. Keith, now in his twenties, takes Shiro to his house for the night to keep an eye on him, and Shiro learns several things: Keith has recently moved back to the area, he teaches swimming, and he’s not entirely human.With his health threatening to end his career as a commercial pilot, Shiro welcomes the distraction of Keith’s friendship and his offer to teach Shiro to swim. But while Shiro finds himself falling for Keith as they spend more time together, it seems Keith is in love with someone else.





	oceans between (you and me)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the reality where the Galra are mermaids! Or merfolk, if you prefer that term. Mermaid has a nice sound, so it’s the word I used. I’ve always wanted to write a mermaid story and had fun brainstorming what the species would be like and how a mermaid could live in the desert.
> 
> This takes place at a point a little more futuristic than 2019, but not quite as futuristic as in Voltron.
> 
> Swimming details are a mix of what little I know about pro swimming (I love to swim but can't speak about it intelligently) or gleaned from _Free!_ (Speaking of _Free!_ , Rin has a brief cameo as Keith's coworker.)
> 
> Written for Faelyn as part of the 2019 Shiro Birthday Exchange. Beta read by RiatheMai

The first thought Shiro had when he stopped rolling was that his body hurt like hell. The pain was concentrated in his temples and the sides of his neck. He’d probably tried to keep his head up when he fell and strained it. But pain was good. It was a _lack_ of pain that would be a concern, and he could feel this throughout his body, in his left arm and both legs. He could move all of them this time, thank god.

Seven years had passed since the accident that took his arm. Shiro had been in his last year of college, and he’d been an idiot. He’d gone riding after dark, under the influence, pissed off that his health had been questioned. Adam hadn’t understood anything. If he’d known Shiro better, he would have known he’d never be happy taking a desk job.

That time, Shiro had taken the bike out to prove something. And that ‘something’ had turned out to be that the fifteen-year-old kid who lived down the street had more common sense than he did. Keith had been the one to call the ambulance and ridden along after he’d lied about being Shiro’s brother. He’d lurked around the ER until they got ahold of Shiro’s parents, and moved away not long after.

The first thought Shiro had when he opened his eyes was that the ones looking down at him were familiar. That worried him because it meant he might actually be unconscious. The eyes were gray, tinged with just enough lavender you couldn’t really _call_ them gray—but there was no better word. They were the exact shade he remembered, the same eyes that had belonged to that kid down the street.

“Keith?”

The eyes narrowed with the pleasure of recognition.

“How many times am I going to have to save your ass?” Keith said.

Shiro blinked in case he was hallucinating, but the image of Keith didn’t flicker. He looked like he was early twenties now—not skinny like he’d been when they knew each other. He’d filled out in his face, no longer covered in scratches and dirt, and had upgraded his wardrobe to dark pants and a v-neck shirt that framed a silver pearl on a brown cord. His hair was still long in the back, tucked behind his ears. Shiro couldn’t see much of Tex in him besides his coloring. He’d never met Keith’s mom, but he assumed Keith had gotten his feline looks from her.

If anything, Keith was...well, Keith was hot now. Was it weird that Shiro thought the neighbor’s kid had grown up to be hot? It wasn’t like he’d thought he was hot as a kid. Just now, in the desert. And they were both adults.

Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he’d thought.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

With his thumb, Keith motioned to a bike idling a few feet away.

“Are you visiting your father?” Shiro asked and tried to sit up.

“Take it easy,” Keith said, keeping him down with a hand to his chest. “I moved back to the area not long ago. Can you feel your hands and feet?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to call an ambulance, or do you want me to drive you to the ER?”

“I just want to go home,” Shiro said.

“If you hit your head hard enough to knock yourself out, you should go to a hospital.”

“I wasn’t unconscious.”

Keith gave him the same look he’d shot him at fifteen when Shiro had implied Keith was too inexperienced to dive his bike off a cliff. Shiro had lost then, too.

“Please,” Shiro said. “I don’t want to see another hospital for a while.”

Something like sympathy flashed in Keith’s eyes and he sighed.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Uh. Takashi Shirogane?”

“Where do you live?”

Understanding what Keith was doing, Shiro recited his full address, including the zip code, the current year, and his airman certificate number. Apparently satisfied, Keith held out his hand for Shiro to take and pull himself to his feet.

“I’d feel better if you’d let me take you to the ER,” Keith said.

“I know,” Shiro said, brushing the red dirt from his clothes. “Thank you. Again.”

Keith turned a smile in the other direction and dragged a hand over the back of his neck.

“If you did hit your head, they’d probably say you shouldn’t sleep. You still live around here, right?”

“Yeah. I bought my folks’ place when they moved.”

“Can you ride behind me? I’ll bring you back for your bike in the morning.”

The bike. Shiro spotted it about fifty yards away. The auto shutoff must have kicked in once his weight was off of it. The bike didn’t look damaged, but he ought to take a look in case he needed to file a claim.

“It’s getting dark,” Keith said. “No one’s gonna find it here. I promise, I’ll run you back as soon as the sun’s up.”

Shiro climbed onto the back of Keith’s bike, one of the newer models that could get about ten feet off the ground and had improved stabilization—they wouldn’t accidentally roll like his had. The bike wasn’t really made for two, but if Shiro put his arm around Keith, they fit.

The bike rose steadily off of the ground. The ride was smoother than Shiro’s bike and faster. They whipped across the darkening sand.

“When did you get this?” he shouted over the whir of the blades.

“Last month. I needed something cheap to get me to work. Hold on,” Keith said and Shiro tightened his arms as they banked slightly left and curved back toward town.

* * *

They touched down behind a one-story house in a sparse neighborhood on the outskirts of the desert, not too far from where Shiro lived.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Keith said, getting down from the bike and taking off his helmet. “But if I’ve got to keep an eye on you, it’s easier to do it at my place. Do you need anything from home?”

Off the top of his head, Shiro could think of several things: toothbrush, a change of clothes, his own bed. But if Keith was serious about keeping him awake, he wouldn’t need a bed tonight. They’d pull an all-nighter so Keith was satisfied and Shiro would catch up on sleep tomorrow. It’s not like he had anything else to do.

“I’m good,” he said.

He dismounted and followed Keith inside the house.

“So what are you doing back this way?” Shiro said, taking off his jacket and laying it across a wooden bench beside the door. “The last thing I heard was that you went to live with your mother?”

Keith made a noncommittal sound and kicked off his boots. He left them laying haphazard in the entryway.

“You probably want to grab a shower,” he said, giving Shiro’s clothes a once-over. “I’ll get you a towel.”

He went into the next room. Shiro could hear him rummaging around in a closet.

“Is it just you?” Shiro said, not wanting to surprise Keith’s girlfriend. Boyfriend?

“Yep. I’ve been renting this place for a couple months.”

“It’s nice. I had no idea you were living so close by. What are you doing for work?”

“Right now, I’m a swimming instructor.” Keith came out of the bedroom carrying a towel in one hand and a t-shirt and shorts in the other. “I don’t know if these’ll fit you, but… If you’ll drop your clothes outside the bathroom door, I’ll throw them in the wash.”

“You really don’t have to go to all this trouble for me,” Shiro said, but Keith pushed the towel and clothes into his hands.

“How sore’s your neck?” he said.

“It’s pretty stiff.”

“I have Tylenol. You wash up and I’ll make coffee.”

Keith probably intended to stay up with him. “Do you work tomorrow?” Shiro said.

“Not ‘til afternoon. I’ll take a nap before I go in.”

“Keith…”

“We either stay up here or in the ER. Take your pick.”

He was just as stubborn as he’d been as a kid. Shiro let out a sigh.

“Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

The hot water helped to relieve some of the stiffness in his neck, but he wouldn’t be turning it much for a few days. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t a chance of him going back to work for at least sixty days, so he might as well spend one of them catching up with an old friend.

Keith was sitting on a gray couch when Shiro got out of the shower. The shorts were snug—a little more snug than he was comfortable wearing in front of someone he hadn’t seen in quite a few years, but at least they’d be sitting. He walked as quickly as he was able to the couch and sat down at the other end.

There was an ice pack, a mug of coffee, and two gel capsules on the table in front of the couch. Shiro swallowed both and wedged the ice pack between his knees.

“We should probably marathon something,” Keith said, holding a bulky old-style remote. “Any preferences?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I put in a pizza. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Do you need to call anyone?”

Shiro tried to shake his head, wincing at the resulting discomfort. “No, I’m single.”

“What happened to that guy you used to date?”

“He’s married. They seem really happy together. They raise succulents.”

“Good for him.” Keith flipped through a few channels and stopped on some type of science program. “Do you still fly?”

“I did up through last week,” Shiro said.

“What do you mean last week?”

“I’m grounded right now for medical reasons.”

“What kind of medical reasons?” Keith said.

Shiro had given this speech so many times (his parents, his brother, his coworkers) he recited it from memory. “I have a disease that affects my muscles. It’s well controlled, but I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and my symptoms are more aggressive than they should be. So I’m taking a rest.”

“But you’ll be able to fly again?”

“I hope so. Maybe not commercial flights.”

“If you’re supposed to be resting, what the hell were you doing riding?”

“I thought it would relax me,” Shiro said with a laugh.

“Speaking of…” Keith twisted sideways. “Do you need me to rub your neck?”

That wasn’t the sort of thing you typically did with someone you’d just met again after six or seven years, but he did feel like hell. And it wasn’t like Keith was a stranger he’d picked up at a bar. 

“I guess...if you really wouldn’t mind?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t offer.” Keith put a hand on each of Shiro’s shoulders and turned him so he faced the wall. His fingers were surprisingly cool, gently working the muscles on either side of Shiro’s neck. Shiro laid the ice pack aside and talked to distract himself from the pain.

“You said you were living with your mom. Where was that?”

“She’s got a pretty nice place about seventy miles off of the Carolinas.”

Shiro hadn’t realized Keith had lived so far away.

“Oh, she lives on an island?” he said.

“The reef’s hers so, I guess, yeah?”

Reef?

“What made you move back?” Shiro said.

“I came back to get married.”

Hearing that should not have taken Shiro’s mood down a notch. He had no right to be jealous. No one as good looking as Keith was single at his age. “Wow. Congratulations. When’s the big day?”

“That’s still up in the air. Technically, we’re not engaged yet.”

“But it’s serious enough you’re thinking about it. That’s great.”

Keith dug his thumbs in a little harder. “So are you game or not?” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I came back to marry you.”

Despite how stiff it was, Shiro managed to turn his neck so he could look at Keith over his shoulder. He stared at him without blinking for a handful of seconds before Keith burst out laughing.

“I’m _fucking_ with you,” he said. “You should see the expression on your face right now. Truth is, my pop had an accident at work not too long ago. I moved back this way to give him a hand.”

Shiro could feel the color coming back into his face.

“Is he all right? Your father?”

“He’s getting there.” Keith resumed rubbing Shiro’s neck. “He’d get there faster if he’d do physical therapy, but he’s as stubborn as you are. I’ve got him swimming, though.”

“Why aren’t you staying with him?”

“I’m a little old to live at home.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-two. You must be pushing thirty, old timer.”

“I have one more year in my twenties,” Shiro said with mock offense, although it felt good to hear Keith’s old nickname for him. “How long are you planning to stay in the area?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said. “I only planned to come back for a couple weeks, but I’m really liking it here.”

Shiro tried to think of something else to say. “What was it like at your mom’s?”

“Dark and wet. Which I don’t mind, but some days I really missed the sunlight, you know?”

“You make it sound like she lives underground.”

Keith’s hands stopped moving and Shiro heard him sit back on the couch and scratch his head.

“Uh...Shiro…” Keith said carefully. “What’s the last conversation you remember us having before I left?”

“Last conversation?”

Shiro had to think about it. His memory was hazy, but he remembered Keith had lectured him that time in the emergency room, calling him an idiot for going out on his own. There had been streaks through the dirt on his cheeks, but he’d looked too furious to be crying. He might have been in the hospital room too, but so many people had come and gone, and Shiro had been disoriented from the concussion. His memories were all mixed up. Maybe the ER was the last time they’d spoken? Keith had already moved by the time Shiro had recovered and he’d never had an opportunity to thank him.

“You don’t remember,” Keith said.

“I’m sorry. Did you visit me in the hospital?”

“Your mom said you were on heavy meds because of your arm. I came to tell you I was leaving. I wondered why I never heard from you after that, but I thought it was because you couldn’t handle what I told you.”

Shiro turned toward him. “What exactly did you tell me?”

“Shiro,” Keith said, looking him dead in the eye. “What do you know about mermaids?”

Shiro waited for Keith’s face to crack, but when his expression hadn’t shifted after a few seconds, Shiro licked his lips. This was a weird game but he could play along.

“Mermaids, huh?” He ticked off facts on his fingers as they came to him. “They live in the ocean. They avoid contact with people on land, are friends with talking fish, and perform exciting musical numbers.”

Keith snorted. “The part about avoiding humans? Only the real extremists practice that. And I have never talked to a fish.”

“So you sing a lot?”

“In the shower,” Keith said. “Never been big on singing underwater. Too easy to get water in my lungs.”

Maybe this was some kind of role play he was interested in. Shiro had seen something on the internet about people who put on tails and went free diving.

“How does breathing work?” he asked.

Keith turned his head, brushing the hair away from his left ear. Shiro laughed at how far Keith was willing to take the game. But when Keith bent the cartilage of his ear forward, behind it Shiro could see a series of curved vertical slits about an inch and a half long. They looked like scars, although arranged too precisely to be from an accident. Tattoos? Had Keith had been victim of some sort of abuse?

The slits opened slightly all at once, revealing a deep reddish tissue inside, and Shiro jumped up off of the couch.

Keith laughed and the slits closed again. He let his hair fall back over them.

“They’re gills,” he said. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Shiro was absolutely freaking out. He had thousands of hours of flying time and barely got his heart rate up if something happened in the air, but right now it felt like it was going to beat itself from out between his ribs.

“Why do you have _gills_?” he said.

Keith shrugged. “I inherited them from my mom.”

“Wait…” Shiro swallowed. “You’re saying your mother is…”

“Yup.”

“And your father?”

“My pop’s human.”

Shiro couldn’t stop blinking. “H—how did they meet?”

“Boating accident,” Keith said. “Dad was visiting some friends in the Outer Banks. They went out fishing. Boat took on water.”

“And she rescued him?”

“Got him and the rest of them back to shore. Stayed with him until she knew he was okay.”

“She can go on land?”

“Yeah. She’s got lungs. Doesn’t look too different from me, though her skin’s a little different. Kind of purplish.”

This was the strangest conversation Shiro had ever had in his life and he wasn’t entirely convinced that he wasn’t actively dying in the desert. He needed to confirm that he was awake, and that what he was experiencing was reality.

Nails in his palms ought to do it. He dug his in, and they felt the way nails should feel digging into your palm. When he relaxed his hand, the little moon shapes throbbed. He glanced to his watch and then away before looking back again. No change in the time. No changes in the room around him. The pain was acute, fading, but still there.

Keith was still looking at him, and Shiro’s eyes drifted to the place where his hair covered his neck. He brushed it away again without asking.

“You did this last time too,” Keith said. He held very still and let Shiro look.

“Did I say anything?” Shiro asked.

“That you didn’t mind.”

He sounded sort of small. Rejected. Not like Keith—well, not like the Keith he remembered laughing through a bloody mouth when his bike had rolled over. There were plenty of things in the world Shiro didn’t understand. The gills or whatever they were, Shiro hadn’t imagined them. Keith pulled his hair into a knot and they seemed to grin at him from either side of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, sitting back down. “I really don’t remember.”

“It’s not a big deal. You know now anyway. You’d better drink that coffee before it gets cold. I don’t have a microwave.”

Shiro picked up his cup. The coffee was still warm, brewed stronger than he would’ve made it for himself. He’d always been more of a tea drinker. It did the job, though. By the time he finished the cup, the caffeine had already begun to work its magic and he could feel the veil of exhaustion lift.

“How come you went to live with your mom?” Shiro asked.

“They thought it was best for me. Mom wanted me to live on land long enough to pass as a human, so I spent my childhood here. As long as I come back from time to time, I don’t forget stuff like walking. It’s weird getting used to wearing clothes again, though.”

The image slipped into his head unbidden—Keith, _this_ Keith, with his black hair wet, flowing past his shoulders, bare-chested, the flat expanse of his stomach, and a...tail?

“Oh, yeah?” Shiro said, clearing his throat of the coffee that had suddenly slipped down the wrong pipe.

Keith grinned. “You just thought about me naked.”

“Do you leave clothing on the shore?” Shiro asked, eager to dress the Keith in his head.

“Too easy for it to get stolen. I just store it wet. The synthetic stuff dries quickly enough.”

“What about money?”

“Credit card.”

“Transportation?”

“My mom’s got a car, but I flew out. My dad picked me up at the airport.”

A thousand questions ravaged Shiro’s brain like a flock of corvids. Where did they keep the car? How did someone who lived in the ocean get a car in the first place? Weren’t they worried about discovery?

“Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t stop talking to me because of that,” Keith said.

Shiro swallowed. “Why did you tell me? Before you left, I mean.”

“I knew you wouldn’t look at me different. You’d told me about your boyfriend. You knew what it was like to keep something big inside.”

Shiro had hurt him. Without knowing it, forgetting that conversation had probably cost Keith years of suffering because of him, thinking his one friend back on land, someone he had confided in, hadn’t accepted him. That had been Shiro’s biggest fear when he came out, that the people he loved might not accept him, that there would be a change in their eyes when they looked at him.

He put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He tried not to think about water or the gills or what Keith must look like twisting underwater. He was Keith. He was the same Keith that Shiro had known seven years ago, just a little older.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Shiro said.

Keith smiled. He moved his lips as though he might say something else, but the pizza timer went off and he jumped to his feet.

“Hope you’re hungry. It’s meat lovers.”

“You eat meat?” Shiro blurted out, which was insensitive at best. Just because he was half aquatic didn’t mean he only ate fish. Keith hadn’t asked for details when Shiro came out to him, just stolen half of his fries.

“Yeah,” Keith called from the kitchen. “Why, are you a vegetarian now or something?”

”No, meat’s fine.”

“I remembered you like it. You used to eat my weight in cheeseburgers.”

He came back with a plate of steaming pizza squares, a brown bottle under his right arm, a glass of water in his hand.

“Sorry for drinking in front of you,” Keith said, cracking open the beer he’d brought for himself, although he didn’t sound particularly sorry—in fact, he sounded more like he was gloating. He crossed a foot over his opposite leg, so that his ankle rested just past his knee. The skin on the top of his foot had a slightly bluish hue that Shiro would’ve brushed off as poor circulation an hour ago.

Keith didn’t bring up mermaids again. They found an old three-part epic and watched until the sun started to come up. Keith cried at the end of the last movie, though he blamed it on the morning light streaming through the eastern windows.

“I’ll make more coffee,” he said, wiping his eyes on a sleeve. “Do you need more Tylenol?”

“Thanks,” Shiro said. His neck felt worse than it had last night, almost impossible to lift off of the back of the couch. It would be tough getting the bike home but he’d manage. He probably should’ve convinced Keith to let him ride it back yesterday.

A few minutes later, Keith brought him a fresh mug of French roast and two extra-strength pain killers.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t think you ought to go anywhere today. I’m gonna text a friend from work, have him run me out to where you crashed so I can bring your bike in.”

“Keith—”

“Just say thank you. Do you want breakfast?”

“Thank you,” Shiro said. “And, if it’s not too much trouble, breakfast would be great. I’d offer to give you a hand, but...”

“You stay where you are. And take those,” Keith said, pointing to the pills he’d set on the coffee table.

They’d kicked in by the time Keith returned with two plates of scrambled eggs.

“What time do you work?” Shiro said.

“Not until six. It’s a bunch of kids. They’ll keep me awake.”

Shiro took a bite. “These are good,” he said. “Mine never taste this good.”

“I just add stuff until I like it,” Keith muttered, though he sounded pleased.

There was a knock at the door and Shiro could see Keith’s coworker through the glass, a skinny guy with reddish hair and a tall baseball cap.

“Where are your keys?” Keith said to Shiro.

“I left them by the front door. Aren’t you going to invite him in?”

“His boyfriend’s visiting from out of town. I promised him this wouldn’t take long.” He slipped Shiro’s key ring onto his finger. “I’ll be back.”

The front door slammed shut and Shiro wondered if “out of town” meant he’d flown in from the Chicago area or if the boyfriend was another mermaid. Merman? Was Keith the only one he’d ever met or was it common for them to come on land?

Keith had left his food half-finished on the coffee table. It hurt to get off the couch, but Shiro took the plates to the kitchen and put Keith’s in the refrigerator. A calendar with a picture of a bloodhound with watery eyes was stuck to it, the free kind that came in the mail around the holidays.

Shiro stood at the sink for a while trying to roll his head back and forth. He’d bruised the left side of his body when he fell. His hip was sore, the insides of his knees where they’d struck each other, but at least he’d gotten off without reconstructive surgery this time.

He’d need to do something big as thanks—dinner wouldn’t cut it. A new helmet, maybe. New pair of boots. Keith’s were pretty scuffed. If Shiro had had the energy, he might’ve walked around the house and gotten a sense of what Keith was like now, but he made it as far as the couch and shut his eyes, warm in a patch of sunlight.

* * *

He woke warm, under a blanket Keith must’ve spread over him. On the coffee table in front of him, Keith had left two more pills and a glass of water with a note.

 _Back by nine_.

He’d scribbled his number, an area code Shiro didn’t recognize.

He should take his bike home. The keys were on the table inside the front door. Shiro could see them from the couch. Was it worse to leave while Keith was gone or take advantage of his hospitality for another evening? Adam would bring over food if Shiro called, but he’d inevitably bring along his husband and Shiro wasn’t sure he could handle an evening talking sports.

Keith wouldn’t have brought him here if it would be an imposition. He would’ve taken Shiro straight home or asked him to lock up when he left, not written a note with his return time. Staying it was.

Injuries always felt worse the second day, but Shiro dragged himself off of the couch and into the kitchen to go through Keith’s cabinets. His search netted a box of bowtie pasta and pink vodka sauce. At twenty minutes to nine, he put a pot of water on to boil and was draining the pasta when Keith came through the front door.

“I hope you don’t mind me using your kitchen,” Shiro said. “I figured you would be hungry.”

Keith held up a brown bag. Grease had soaked through one corner. “Great minds,” he said through a laugh. “Thought you might want your favorite.”

“How hungry are you?” Shiro said.

“Starved. And exhausted. Let’s eat all of it.”

They sat in the living room again with the TV on the weather forecast as background noise. Keith had remembered Shiro’s favorite burger right down to the jalapeños.

“I thought you might sneak out while I was gone,” Keith said, taking a bite of his.

Shiro didn’t say that he’d thought about it. “Not much to do just sitting around my house.”

“How long are you grounded?”

“Until I can pass my medical exam.”

“How bad is it?” Keith said. “Is that why you fell?”

Shiro shook his head. “I was pissed off and shouldn’t have been riding. But if the FAA finds out about that, I don’t know if they’d let me in the cockpit again.”

Keith took a long breath. “Is there anything you can do?”

“For the disease? There’s no cure. I heard about an experimental treatment, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work. If I’m lucky, it could buy me a couple years. I’ll just continue to waste away until I die.” Shiro laughed. “Makes me a great catch, right?”

Keith licked his lips. “You look good,” he said.

“Is there any truth to what they say about mermaid blood?”

“What, like immortality?” Keith shook his head. “It’s just blood. There’s nothing magic about it. Those rumors about drove us extinct. They’d catch us, bleed us dry. They thought we were vampires or something—like we could bite somebody and turn them. I dunno. The only people I can pass this to are my own kids.”

Shiro tried to imagine Keith with a kid or two. “Were you serious about coming back here to marry someone?”

Keith shoved a french fry in his mouth. “I told you I was messing with you.”

“Seemed like a strange joke. That’s all.”

“There’s someone I’m interested in, but it’s one-sided.”

“Sorry, that’s frustrating.”

“It’s how it usually is for us. We have this...I don’t really know what to call it. Instinct? Rescuing people is second nature. I don’t even have to think about doing it. With him, the first time I ever saw him hurt, I knew I’d do anything...” Keith stopped speaking and cleaned his hands on a napkin. He sat forward, lacing them together. “Sometimes when we save a particular human, they kinda stay with us. There’s no saying when it’ll happen. I’ve helped plenty of people, but only that one stuck.”

“What does that mean?” Shiro said.

Keith smiled wanly. “Means I’m in for a lonely life. Sometimes it works out, though. It worked for my parents.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think they were together.”

“They refuse to live together, but they’re still crazy about each other. My dad flies out a couple times a year to see her. When that happens...trust me, you don’t want to be within a square mile. They hole up for days.”

“Why doesn’t he move there?”

“He already had a career when they met. He’s chief now. There’s no way he can live where she does until he retires, and she doesn’t want to live so far from the water.”

“But you’re okay with living here?” Shiro said.

“I grew up out here. I miss the water sometimes, but I get plenty of it at work and this place has a tub.”

Shiro smiled and kept eating. The burger tasted the way he remembered. The peppers left a familiar warmth in the back of his throat.

“I really owe you,” he said between bites. “What can I do to thank you?”

When Keith looked at him, there was something in his eyes that Shiro didn’t recognize. Not on Keith. For a split-second, he almost looked desperate. A little sad. So un-Keith-like that Shiro blinked and by the time he had, Keith’s face had regained its usual bored cast.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I insist.”

Keith’s right hand, the one that was reaching for the fries, tightened suddenly midair, like he was angry. He rested the fist on the edge of the coffee table and relaxed it with his next breath.

“Come swimming with me. In the ocean.”

Shiro’s mouth fell open from guilt. “I can’t swim.”

“Swimming’s a lot like flying. I’ll teach you.”

Shiro hesitated. Swimming was something he’d always meant to learn, but the older he got, the more ridiculous he felt about trying to learn how. Living here wasn’t like living near the coast where there was more access to water. His family had never had a pool, and he’d played soccer in high school.

“There are adult classes,” Keith said, picking up on his discomfort. “But I can teach you one-on-one if you want. I have access to the club after hours.”

It wasn’t like Shiro had anything better to do. And if it would make Keith happy...

“I’ll take you up on that,” Shiro said. “Thank you, Keith.”

“I won’t go easy on you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

After that, Keith looked satisfied. Shiro spent another night on his couch, sleeping this time, and in the morning after Keith had rubbed his neck and shoulders, he got on the bike with Keith’s number in his phone and the cool ghost of his hands on his skin.

* * *

The following week, after promising that his neck was no longer giving him trouble, Shiro met Keith at the swim club where he taught. He parked around the side of the building and sent Keith a text to say he’d arrived so that Keith would open the side door.

It was a shock to see him in a swimsuit for the first time. Shiro thought he might have worn trunks, but he was in fitted black swim tights with twin purple stripes on the outside of his thighs. Even if Shiro hadn’t been gay and alarmingly single, he would have appreciated the aesthetic of Keith’s ass in that skin-tight fabric.

Keith must have been able to read Shiro’s interest on his face. He made an expression like he was satisfied and locked the door behind them.

“It’s just us,” he said. “No reason to be nervous. Locker room’s this way.”

The locker room stunk the way locker rooms always do, like mildew and chlorine. He left his clothes folded on a bench and went through the door Keith had indicated that led to the pool. It was enormous, taking up almost all of the square footage except for the walkway that ran along the perimeter. Overhead, the ceiling was partially glass and let in the starlight. The water caught it, a rippling reflection. Keith was waiting by the ladder.

Shiro felt self conscious in only a pair of swim trunks, even though he was in peak condition—always ate well, never skipped a workout. He probably looked better now than when Keith had known him before, a product of overcompensation. Shiro had never liked being told something was impossible. That’s why he’d worked as hard as he had: picking up extra flights when they were available, accepting routes no one else wanted. Dangerous landing conditions gave him a rush when he conquered them. It had never been about the money, although he’d need that when he couldn’t fly anymore.

 _When_. It had always been _when_ , never _if_. That’s what Adam had understood at a time Shiro wasn’t ready to accept it.

His face was flushed by the time he reached Keith’s side. Maybe it was because they were alone, or because it had been so long since anyone had looked at Shiro in this state of undress. Anyone who wasn’t one of his doctors. Keith didn’t tease or make any comments, just raised his head when he heard Shiro coming and gave him a half smile.

Something occurred to Shiro as they stood at the edge of the pool.

“Don’t you have to be careful about getting wet?” he said and Keith looked at him with bewilderment.

“Huh?”

He gestured vaguely at Keith’s legs.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Where the hell do you get your information?”

Feeling foolish, Shiro rubbed his neck. “Well, in movies, whenever a mermaid gets wet…their legs turn...”

“First of all, how would that even work? Have you ever thought about the mechanics? Don’t believe everything you see on TV.”

Shiro opened his mouth, feeling stupid. “Keith, I’m sorry. That was—”

But Keith smiled again, a little wider this time. “Don’t worry about it. Is your arm gonna be okay in the water?”

“Yes, this model’s waterproof.”

“Awesome. Let’s get in.”

He descended the ladder into the pool and waited for Shiro to do the same. The water was cool and sent an unpleasant sensation through his skin. It felt huge. Shiro didn’t know how better to describe it then that the water felt huge, like hands.

“It’ll feel warmer in a minute,” Keith said. “You can stand here. When you’re ready, let go of the ladder.”

“Okay,” Shiro said, releasing his hands. The water caught him, and then Keith’s hand, steady at the center of his back.

“I want to start with holding your breath and getting you used to having your head underwater.”

“Wish I had gills,” Shiro said, glancing to the deepest part of the pool where the water was darkest.

“They’re no good in chlorine,” Keith said. “It stings. When you’re ready, I’m going to have to bend your knees and submerge your head. Be sure to close your eyes. And—”

Shiro took a deep breath and lowered his body, feeling the line of water rise on his torso, over his shoulders, up his neck, his chin. His nose touched the surface and water flowed into his ears, muting the room. For a few seconds, the world was peaceful. Then water flowed into his nose and Shiro stood up sputtering through the sting.

“Did you get water up your nose?” Keith said, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Try exhaling a little bit next time. Not your full lung capacity, just enough to keep your nose clear. Ready to try again?”

Keith was a thorough and patient teacher. The kind of teacher Shiro would want to be if he took up flight instruction. They started with floating, on his back first and then on his stomach with his knees to his chest and his face in the water. Keith touched his shoulder when it was time to come up for air. His playfulness was absent the whole time they were in the pool, which made it easier to concentrate and easier to forget that Keith was devastatingly attractive.

“I should’ve known you’d be good at this,” Keith said after an hour. “Is there anything you’re bad at?”

“Relationships,” Shiro said without thinking, then worried he’d made Keith uncomfortable and laughed to cover it. “And picking check-out lines. I always choose the one that takes the longest.”

“You should use self check-out,” Keith said. He motioned to the ladder and they both got out. Shiro was surprised his legs felt a little rubbery, but Keith had promised to work him hard. He handed Shiro’s towel to him.

“Tomorrow?”

“If I can walk tomorrow,” Shiro said.

“You don’t look like you’re out of shape,” Keith said. “But water’s a hell of a workout. If you’re not up to it, let me know. We can do it some other day.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” Shiro said, reminding himself that Keith was doing this as a favor. There had to be fifty other things he’d rather do than teach a grown friend how to swim. But Keith’s lips quirked up in the corners. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for this?” Shiro continued. “I’m happy to come when you’re open. And pay you! I don’t expect you to do this for free.”

“Then have dinner with me,” Keith said. “Your treat.”

He whipped his towel at Shiro’s face with a grin and headed toward the locker room. Shiro scrambled after him, watching his step on the wet pool surround.

“Of course!” he said. “Whatever you want.”

* * *

What Keith wanted was fish.

“I’m a little homesick,” Keith said, shoving a raw pink chunk into his mouth. He swallowed it and shrugged. “My mom’s is better.”

They’d picked a Hawaiian-style seafood place not far from Keith’s house that served everything in bowls. He’d asked for one scoop of yellowtail, one spicy crab, one octopus, and a side of seaweed salad. Shiro stuck with chicken.

“Can I ask something?” he said.

Keith sat back in the booth, extending his arms on either side of him. He was wearing riding gloves and cropped red jacket over a t-shirt. The shirt said ‘I can fly’ above the image of a swimmer mid-butterfly stroke.

“Sure.”

“What do you eat when you’re...there?”

“It’s what you’d expect. Fish mostly. Seaweed. Sometimes I’ll catch a gull, but they’re better roasted. If you’re talking underwater, pretty much what you can find near the reef. And before you ask, no, I’m not picking up a lobster and eating it with my teeth. We’re not wild animals. Just aquatic.”

“How did your mother buy a car?”

“Cash offer,” Keith said. “You should see her bargain.”

Shiro flushed while Keith laughed.

“Relax. I’m not going to bite you because you asked a question. She’s got ID and stuff. A lot of us do. There’s a guy who’s real good at faking papers if you bring in the right stuff.”

How did currency work in the ocean? “Like...pearls?” Shiro guessed.

“Sometimes, but usually artifacts from wrecks. We can get places humans can’t. Anyway.” Keith plucked a soybean from his bowl and popped in into his mouth. “We used to do a lot of trading until my mom discovered eBay. She does a pretty good business. Calls it Get Wrecked. Funny right? That’s how she’s got the house and the car. Place is empty most of the year. You’re welcome to borrow it if you ever want to fly out.”

He speared three chunks of fish with his fork. It was raw, a rosy translucent pink. Shiro shuddered, but Keith’s eyes glinted gold for just a moment and his smile turned predatory.

He went back for an extra side of seaweed salad for dessert and ate it in four bites.

“Not as good as fresh but not bad,” he said. “How was your food?”

“Fine,” Shiro said.

“Does seafood gross you out?”

Shiro worried this was some sort of a test. “What? No,” he said firmly. “I just don’t eat it that often.”

Keith looked up and met his eyes. “But you don’t mind it?”

Shiro shook his head and pinched a stray piece of seaweed from Keith’s plate to make his point. The flavor was like the ocean, strange and salty. On top of it was something sweet. He let the taste linger in his mouth.

Behind the counter, the staff was putting away food and cleaning surfaces. Shiro glanced at his watch.

“We should probably get going,” he said. “I think it’s their closing time.”

Nodding, Keith slurped his water down to ice and pushed his chair back. He held open the glass door for Shiro and walked him to his car.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for the lesson,” Shiro said. “Sorry to keep you out so late.”

“Let me know you get home okay.”

It was a funny request, but Shiro agreed.

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, Keith.”

Keith stayed where he was, watching Shiro’s car pull out of its space and onto the road.

Shiro had forgotten to take out the trash before he left and dashed through the house once he got back, collecting it from the various rooms. The neighbor from two doors down, the Koganes’ old house, caught him at the curb. They chatted for a few minutes. She always hung a seasonal wreath on her door; this month, it was dressed in patriotic colors for the Fourth of July. Tex had never hung decorations outside, but when Keith had lived there, they’d always had a Christmas tree that took up the whole front window.

When Shiro escaped inside, he grabbed a shower and threw his swimsuit in the wash so it would be fresh for tomorrow. It wasn’t until an hour later when he was getting ready for bed that he remembered he’d forgotten to text Keith. He’d left his phone in his jacket. He half expected there to be a string of messages from Keith wondering what had happened to him, but the only notification was about a package arriving Thursday. Shiro felt bad sending a message this late—what if Keith was already asleep?---but he’d promised.

_Got home a while ago. Thanks again. Let me know what time tomorrow._

Immediately after he sent it, he could see that Keith was typing, almost like he’d been sitting around waiting for Shiro to contact him. His reply was brief.

_Same time. Night._

Shiro stared at the message for a few seconds, thumb hovering over the “G” on his keyboard, but withdrew it and put his phone to charge.

* * *

It became their routine across a month: swimming any time Keith had a free evening, followed by Shiro buying Keith an overflowing bowl of raw seafood as thanks and watching him devour it. Every night when they parted, Keith asked Shiro to let him know he’d reached home okay. And every time he wrote back immediately, just one word. _Night_.

While Shiro was adjusting to moving his arms in one way and his legs in another, Keith had him use a kick board to practice—a unique brand of humiliation for someone nearly thirty, but Shiro held onto the board and kicked the way Keith instructed. By the start of the third week, Shiro could swim a clumsy freestyle.

Today, they were standing in the shallow end. Keith was demonstrating how to pull through the water. He fit his hand into the shape of a cup and dragged it beside his body.

“It’s important to keep your fingers together,” he said. “No matter the water resistance. Don’t let them get like this.”

He spread his fingers into a fan and immediately locked them together again, but it had been long enough that Shiro noticed something about the skin between his fingers. Keith usually wore a pair of fingerless black gloves when they were out, so there had never been an opportunity for Shiro to see that the webbing between his fingers was more pronounced than Shiro’s was, so thin it was almost translucent. Keith noticed him staring and lowered his arms, jaw tensing. He turned his head away. Even under the harsh fluorescent lights, Shiro could see the flush on his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” he said.

“Does it freak you out?”

“No, it doesn’t freak me out. I like your body!”

That wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say. He’d intended to reassure Keith that nothing about him was strange. What he’d done instead was embarrass himself for the hundredth time. He put up a hand.

“I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Please don’t take offense. What I meant to say was nothing about you is going to make me stop being your friend.”

Keith sniffed and wiped his nose. “I want you to try one more lap, this time with your hand the way I showed you.”

“Keith…”

Keith flashed his teeth. “I know you’re tired, old timer, but do this last one and we can call it a night.”

He wasn’t looking Shiro in the eye. Shiro took a breath and did his best to replicate what Keith had shown him, cupping his left hand and forcing his fingers together.

“Really reach with your arm,” Keith called.

Shiro made it to the far wall and stopped for breath, then kicked off and swam back to him. He was breathing hard by the time he reached Keith’s side.

“Could you feel the difference?” Keith said.

“I think so,” Shiro said. “Felt like I had more control.”

“Good. Let’s hit the showers. I’m starving.”

“Do you want to try someplace new tonight?” Shiro said, swimming toward the ladder. He climbed up an extended a hand, but Keith climbed out of the pool without taking it.

“Like what?” he said.

“Something a little nicer.”

“I’ve only got jeans.”

“We could run home and change first. It’s not _that_ late.”

“I don’t mind the quick stuff,” Keith said.

Shiro handed him a towel. “Humor me?”

Keith dried his face and torso, and wrapped the towel around his waist, folding his arms across his chest.

“All right. Where should I meet you.”

“I’ll pick you up,” Shiro said.

Keith didn’t look convinced, but he was ready to go twenty-two minutes later when Shiro pulled up in front of his house. He’d changed into a dark button-down shirt and black pants. The shirt was unbuttoned at his throat. Shiro could make out the cord of the necklace he always wore. Keith had dried his hair and tucked it behind his ears; he usually wore it pulled back when they were swimming

“Where are we headed?” he asked, getting into the car.

“A place one of my coworkers told me about. He and his girlfriend really like it. And they stay open late. Seatbelt.”

Keith gave him a look but fastened it. “It’s a Thursday night. Are you sure we’ll get a table?”

“I made reservations. You look really nice, by the way.”

Keith mumbled something and tugged at his collar.

The restaurant was buzzing when they pulled up. They were lucky to get a table outside, toward the edge of an expansive patio where it didn’t feel so crowded. A server brought water and menus. Keith asked for squid and a whiskey soda, and looked mildly annoyed when he had to present ID.

“You do look young,” Shiro laughed after the server walked away. He spread his napkin on his lap and glanced around them. Most of the other diners looked to be couples. It was too late for families to be out. The sun was going down. Keith kept his eyes to their table, fussing with his silverware.

Did the surroundings make him uncomfortable? Shiro didn’t know anything about the person Keith was fixated on. He never spoke about him. If it made him upset, it was no wonder. But maybe Keith needed to talk about it and didn’t know how to bring it up.

“So...” Shiro started, taking a sip of water. It was mostly ice. “How are things with that guy? Are you in touch with him?”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, we talk.”

“And...any progress?”

“I told you, he’s not into me like that.”

“Is he straight?” Shiro said. “That’s rough. I’ve been there.”

Keith lifted an eyebrow. “Someone’s turned you down?”

“I’ve been turned down plenty of times. Adam dumped me because I picked up every extra shift I could instead of spending time with him.”

“At least he wanted to be with you,” Keith said.

“Why would you think someone wouldn’t want you?”

“It’s a lot to accept.”

“It works for your parents.”

“I think my parents are the exception. Most of us end up as sea foam.”

Shiro blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You know that story, right? Little mermaid gets her heart broken and turns into foam? They say we don’t have souls, that we dissolve after we die.”

“You’re saying that’s _true_?” Sobered, Shiro took a breath. “Keith, you have to tell him. If there’s a chance he---”

Keith’s composure cracked. He started to laugh and wiped his eyes. “You’re so easy. I wanted to keep that going, but now I just feel bad.”

“Were you lying?”

“Sorry, it’s just so funny how easily you believe that mermaid crap.”

“So you’re not going to turn into sea foam.”

“Not a chance. I’ll rot just like you will.”

The server reappeared with Keith’s drink and their appetizer. “Gentlemen,” she said. “Have you had a chance to review the menu?”

They enjoyed a long, lazy dinner. Keith had coffee and crab for dessert, which he offered to Shiro on a fork. Shiro dodged it with a pilot’s precision and signed his name to the bill.

“You don’t eat crab?” Keith asked.

“I’d rather watch you eat it.”

“Your loss.” Keith ate the remainder and cleaned his face. He slumped in his chair and put a hand on his stomach. “Your friend was right about this place. Food’s awesome.”

Shiro smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. Thanks for coming with me. I’ve been wanting to try it.”

“Don’t you have anyone else to hang out with?”

“Does Adam count?”

“You hang with your ex?” Keith said.

“We get along better as friends.”

“But you two aren’t...”

“No,” Shiro said. “Absolutely not. I would never do that. Plus, I think his husband could beat me up.”

Keith laughed softly. “Anyway. Thanks for bringing me.”

“Maybe we can come again sometime.”

“Shouldn’t you bring a date or something?”

Shiro tilted his head. “Is there something wrong with wanting to spend time with you?”

He couldn’t be sure—the sun had gone down and the single flickering votive cast only a faint golden halo—but he thought Keith might have blushed then. He smiled and ducked his chin.

Their shoulders bumped as they walked to the car. Shiro held Keith’s door without thinking, and on the drive back to his house, he cast sidelong glances at him. Keith had his head turned to the passenger window, but enough of his mouth was visible for Shiro to see that he was smiling.

When they got back to Keith’s house, Shiro shifted the car into park in the driveway. He left the engine running. “I had a good time,” he said.

Keith unfastened his seatbelt and twisted toward the center of the car. The glare of the headlights reflected off of the garage door and outlined his face. He looked Shiro in the eye. His were soft.

Shiro knew in that moment, as his hand was already reaching to fit itself to Keith’s jaw, that he wanted to kiss him. But more than that, he thought Keith _wanted_ him to. It was written all over his face, that same desperate expression he’d once worn in his living room. Keith looked at him and wet his lips. He was breathing through his mouth, too quickly for someone who only meant to say “thank you.”

But Shiro hesitated. Even if Keith was attracted to him, he had feelings for someone else—Shiro couldn’t ignore that. If he and Keith crossed this line, chances were they wouldn’t be able to go back to being friends. Not many people were as open-minded as his ex who’d even invited him to the wedding.

He stopped his hand mid-air and pretended to rub away soreness in his opposite shoulder that he didn’t feel.

“You’re great,” he said. “You’re going to make some guy really happy one day.”

Keith smiled and his eyes welled with tears.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you too.”

He got out of the car and went inside without asking Shiro to let him know when he got home. Shiro wrote him anyway, and maybe Keith had gone straight to bed or left his phone in another room, but for the first time, he didn’t write back.

* * *

When the airline had first announced his suspension, Shiro had been worried about spending months at home after so many years of constant travel. But the swim lessons had given him something to look forward to, and the time he’d spent with Keith was more fulfilling than time with his hotshot co-pilot.

But when Keith’s father’s condition got suddenly worse and Keith put their meetings on hold, Shiro grew restless. He started to run twice a day and made plans to have a drink with Lance when he was back in town. He was flying an international route and spent half of his time overseas. On the tenth day, Adam invited Shiro over for quesadillas and football night, which he accepted out of desperation.

After two weeks, he asked if he could take Keith to dinner again.

 _Can’t make it tonight,_ Keith wrote. _Having dinner with my pop._

Shiro twisted up his mouth and looked in the freezer. He’d eaten it down to a half pint of strawberry ice cream and something with a thick layer of freezer burn in an unmarked storage container. Nothing that could pass as dinner. The cabinets were empty, not even a box of pasta left. He’d been planning on a grocery run in the morning, but now was just as good.

As he was wheeling a cart with a squeaky wheel down the frozen food aisle, he thought he knew the man in front of the frozen pizzas. He was about Shiro’s height, with a similar build and graying hair. Was he from work? One of the baggage handlers? Shiro studied his clothes. The man had on jeans, a black fitted shirt and a vest.

“Tex?” Shiro said, recognizing his old neighbor. Shiro was relieved to see he was well enough to go out, probably picking up a few things before Keith came over.

Tex turned his head, looking at Shiro for a beat before he broke into a smile and strode over, offering his hand.

“Takashi Shirogane,” he said with a drawl. “My gosh, it’s been a while.”

“It has, sir. How are you?”

“Just fine. I hear you’re a pilot now.”

“Yes, sir. Keith said they made you chief?”

“It’s been quite an adjustment, getting used to staying at the station and not going out on the truck anymore. Feels like I’m abandoning my team.” Tex sighed and shook his head. “But I agreed for the sake of my family, it was best if I strapped myself to a desk for a while. It makes Krolia happier anyway.”

“I’m glad to know you’ve recovered. Keith mentioned that’s why he came home.”

“Recovered?”

“From the accident.”

Tex canted his head slightly to the right and his eyebrows drew together. “Is that what he told you?”

“Yes, he said he moved back to help out.”

Tex shook his head again. “That accident was over a year ago. He only moved back at the beginning of the summer.”

Shiro frowned.

“I got a call from his mother over the winter,” Tex said. “She was real worried about him. Said he was isolating himself, asked me if I knew if you were still living in the area. I hope you don’t mind, but I looked you up in the phone book. It must have been a surprise when he called.”

“Actually, we met by chance,” Shiro said slowly, although he was no longer certain that was true. “He found me after I crashed my bike again. What are the odds, huh?”

Tex looked at him with an expression Shiro couldn’t read.

“Well. I’m just glad you boys are spending time together. Keith wasn’t doing so good when he moved back. It hurt me as his father, seeing him like that. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems like his old self. You always meant so much to him. He really admired you.”

“He’s a great guy,” Shiro said. “He’s teaching me how to swim.”

“He mentioned that. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be at the pool right now?”

Shiro frowned. “He had to cancel. He said the two of you were having dinner.”

“Funny,” Tex said. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

He took out his phone. Shiro started to back away, believing he’d just caused a problem by revealing Keith’s lie, but Tex held up a finger. Shiro stopped walking.

“He’s not answering,” Tex said after a minute. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Did anything happen?”

“We went out for dinner. I dropped him off at home.”

Tex studied his face and put his phone in his pocket. “It’s probably nothing, but I’ll swing by his place. In fact, why don’t you come with me?”

“I—I don’t want to intrude.”

“We might as well take dinner with us,” Tex said, turning back toward the frozen food case. “Which one of these pizzas do you think he’d like?”

* * *

Tex knocked twice on Keith’s front door before inserting his key and pushing it open without further announcement.

“Son, why aren’t you answering your phone?” he called, but there was no answer. Something cold like fear clawed at Shiro’s gut. He followed Tex inside. The air was sour from trash that needed to be taken out. The living room lights were off, kitchen empty. Keith’s wallet and keys lay on the coffee table.

“Keith?” Shiro said.

“Crack a window,” said Tex, wrinkling his nose. “He’s probably in the bathroom.”

“If he’s sick, maybe I ought to go.”

“How much do you know about him?”

“He told me about his mother,” Shiro said.

Tex nodded. “If he trusted you enough to tell you that, I think it’s better that you stay, but I won’t force you.”

Shiro wasn’t sure what he meant, but he followed Tex through the bedroom.

They found Keith in the bathroom, in a deep soaking tub built into the corner. The high sides concealed most of his body; from the doorway, Shiro could see his head and the curve of his spine. Keith was sitting in water up to his chest, legs drawn toward it, arms around them in a loose circle and his forehead resting on his knees. Immediately, Shiro knew there was something wrong. Keith’s skin was gray, like a corpse, and he was shaking. His gills twitched, never sealing completely, the tissue inside more muddy than red.

“Oh, not again,” Tex said.

“Do not call my mom,” Keith said. His voice sounded like it had been scraped from his throat. He lifted his head and saw Shiro in the doorway, then buried his face in his arms. “Fuck. What did you bring him for?”

“Watch your mouth,” Tex said.

“This isn’t his problem.”

“Maybe you ought to let him decide that for himself instead of resigning yourself to being miserable. Takashi?”

Shiro was struggling between the desire to bolt out the front door and never come back or to run toward the tub and take Keith into his arms. He’d slunk back into the bedroom, edging toward the door, but when he heard his name, he stepped into the bathroom light.

“Yes, sir?”

“What my stubborn son is refusing to tell you is that when he rescued you as a kid, it formed a bond between the two of you. Of course, it won’t affect you. You’re human like I am. But to someone like Keith or his mother, it can make ‘em real sick if they think they’ve been rejected by that person.”

“Dad, stop,” Keith moaned.

“That’s why he had to move away so suddenly after your accident,” Tex continued. “We thought if we separated the two of you, it would weaken. Maybe go away entirely. But as soon as he reached adulthood, the symptoms started.”

The revelation left Shiro chilled. Had they separated them because of the effect this could have on Keith, or because they were both men? Because Shiro was older? Had Keith’s parents thought he was the kind of person who’d take advantage of a _kid_?

Tex kept speaking. “Keith, if you love this man, have the courage to say it to his face. Do you think he would be standing here with me if he didn’t care about you?” He let out a long sigh and snatched the shopping bag from Shiro’s hand, then pointed to both of them. “I’m going to start dinner. The two of you, talk this out.”

He shut the bathroom door as he left.

Shiro wasn’t sure if he should come any closer to Keith. He kept his back to the bathroom door, toes flirting with the grout line that marked the first row of tiles.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“Do I look okay to you?”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said. “Is this because of me?”

Keith shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Why did you let me think there was someone else?”

Keith didn’t answer right away. He held so still, Shiro wondered if he’d fallen asleep. He probably needed to. But after half a minute, Keith took a deep breath.

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated. I don’t want you staying with me because of this.”

“Keith, this is your _life_ we’re talking about.”

“Yup.”

Keith lifted his head. His face had a shocking grayish-purple cast, like the pearl around his neck. Dark circles hung like moons beneath his eyes. When he looked at Shiro, they were a dull, lifeless yellow. Shiro did move then, kneeling down beside the tub and extending a hand. Keith’s shoulder felt cold.

“Don’t,” Keith said, cringing. Shiro took his hand back.

“Don’t what? Don’t touch you?”

Dropping his face back to his knees, Keith moved his head side to side. “Please go away.”

“I’ll go to the other room, but I’m not leaving.”

“Please. I don’t want you seeing me like this.”

“You’ve seen me look a lot worse.” Shiro returned his hand to Keith’s shoulder. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Keith shrugged, but at least he wasn’t telling him to leave anymore. Shiro plunged the fingers of his left hand into the bath.

“Keith, the water’s freezing!”

“Feels good,” Keith mumbled.

The depths where his mother lived had to be colder. Shiro sighed and stroked Keith’s back.

“Will you come eat something?”

“Not hungry.”

“What if I pick something up? I can get that tuna bowl you like.” Keith didn’t answer. “Or we could go tomorrow.”

“Why were you with my dad?” Keith said.

“I ran into him at the grocery store. He thought I was supposed to be with you. How long have you been in here?”

“I’ve been getting out to sleep.”

“What can I do?” Shiro said.

“Get in with me.”

Without hesitating, Shiro stood and removed his shirt.

“I wasn’t being serious,” Keith said, but Shiro’s pants had already hit the floor. He climbed into the tub, sitting down opposite Keith, skin blossoming with goose bumps in protest against the cold. The water came up past his shoulders with both of them in the tub, and while it wasn’t long, the depth made it possible for both of them to fit if Shiro crouched on his knees.

“Keith, will you look at me?” he said.

“No.”

Shiro sighed. “Is it true what your dad said?”

“Which part?”

“That you love me.”

“What’s it matter?”

“I think it matters a lot. I wish I’d known.”

“Being close to you was enough,” Keith said. “I wasn’t gonna risk messing that up by saying something.”

“Did you follow me out into the desert the day I crashed?”

“I didn’t _follow_ you.” Keith’s voice was muffled by his knees. “I just hoped you’d be out there ‘cause of the weather. When I saw you crash again, I though my heart was gonna stop.”

“I thought you were in love with someone else.”

“Nope. Just you.”

Shiro couldn’t help laughing at how miserable he sounded. “Why are you so upset about that? Isn’t it a good thing?”

Keith shrugged.

“Okay.” Shiro said. “I know how to fix this.”

He knelt between Keith’s legs and took his face in his hands, tilting it up so they looked at one another.

“Keith, I’ve wanted you from the moment I opened my eyes and saw you again. Every time we’re together, it takes all of my self control not to touch you. That day in the car, the only reason I didn’t kiss you was because I thought you had someone else in your life and didn’t want to disrespect that.”

Keith’s eyes were watery. “You said I’d make some other guy happy.”

“I was trying to be gracious. Truth is, I was jealous as hell.”

Shiro brushed his thumb across the purplish skin beneath Keith’s left eye. If his whole face hadn’t been discolored, Shiro might have thought it was a bruise. Whether it was his fault or not, he felt guilty for Keith being in this state. Shiro followed his thumb’s path with his lips, pressing a kiss underneath Keith’s eye where the skin was darkest.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered and Keith shook his head.

“You don’t have to be sorry about anything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t work up the nerve to tell you I like you sooner.”

He kissed beneath Keith’s other eye, and the center of his forehead, and finally his mouth. Keith made a quiet sound in the back of his throat. He brought his hands out of the water and hooked them weakly over Shiro’s arms.

Keith didn’t kiss the way Shiro thought he would. With everything else, he was assertive. Fearless. But he kissed with hesitancy, as though he believed Shiro would change his mind and leave. Shiro took his time. Over and over, he kissed Keith’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth until the color had deepened and it had begun to swell. He lightly touched the tip of his tongue to Keith’s lips, kissing them in between, until Keith understood that Shiro wanted him to open his mouth.

It was cool like the rest of him, tongue rougher than Shiro was used to—rough but exciting. He slipped an arm behind Keith’s back to draw him closer and Keith took the opportunity to change their positions, sitting astride Shiro’s legs and draping both arms around his neck.

“Would you touch me?” he whispered.

“Your dad’s in the other room.”

“So?”

Shiro shivered and kissed him. “Shouldn’t we wait until you’re feeling better?”

“I really think it’ll help.”

“Oh. Is it a mermaid thing?”

“Uh huh.”

Shiro laughed. He didn’t care if Keith was telling the truth or not, but he did fear a walk-in. Tex had barged into the house, after all. Shiro glanced to the door, too far to reach from the tub. He wasn’t going to tell Keith to wait while he got out to lock it, not with Keith wrapped around him and rubbing his cock against Shiro’s stomach.

“He won’t come in,” Keith said breathily. His fingernails left throbbing channels on Shiro’s back and shoulders. “Not with you in here. Shiro, please.”

He did what Keith wanted, taking him into his palm. Keith moaned in a way that was absolutely _not quiet_ and continued to make noises as he thrust into Shiro’s hand and called his name. Shiro wanted to quiet him with his mouth, but Keith had raised himself on his knees. His chest was at mouth level and Shiro, helpless against such an offering, latched onto it.

In spite of the noise he’d made leading up to that point, Keith was silent as he peaked, arching his neck and back, mouth open, then sliding down onto Shiro’s chest like a retreating wave. He slumped against him and panted softly beside his ear.

“Better?” Shiro asked.

Keith nodded

“Are you ready to get out yet?”

This time, Keith shook his head and Shiro took his nonverbal state to mean he’d enjoyed it. He held Keith tightly, both to stay warm and out of a newfound want to protect him.

He jumped when Tex knocked soundly on the bathroom door. Even though he and Keith were both adults and what they’d done was consensual, Tex was Keith’s father, and Shiro had just had his hands in places Tex didn’t need to know about. As far as embarrassing moments went, this was on the level with the time Shiro had been caught with his first boyfriend in his parents’ bed.

“Pizza’s in the oven,” Tex said through the door, as though he hadn’t heard them fooling around. “I set a timer, but you’re gonna have a hard time hearing it in there. I’m going to leave you boys to it. Maybe next week, the two of you can come over and we can talk.”

“Thanks, dad,” Keith said.

He laid his head on Shiro’s shoulder. A few moments later, the front door opened and closed.

“You’re freezing,” Keith said. “We should get out.”

“Why don’t I carry you to the living room?”

“You think I can’t walk?” Keith said and Shiro smiled at the return of his boldness.

“I didn’t say that.”

Keith pulled back to look at him. His pupils were large, chasing most of the gold from his eyes. Around the edges of his irises were faint lavender rings. He locked his hands in challenge behind Shiro’s neck.

Shiro scooped him out of the water, carrying him with an arm behind his back and under his knees. The open window had cleared the air in the living room, leaving it slightly warm. In the kitchen, the alarm was going off. Shiro deposited Keith on the couch and covered him with a throw blanket.

“You need this more than I do,” Keith said.

“Get it warm for me. I’ll check on dinner.”

“What kind of pizza did you get?”

“Meat lovers,” Shiro said. “I remembered you made it before. Is that okay? Should I run out and get you something else?”

For a split second, Keith’s expression softened. He rubbed his eyes with a fist.

“I want fish tomorrow,” he said.

Shiro smiled. “Deal.”

He ran to the bathroom for his pants and rescued the pizza from the oven before it burned. He distributed the slices onto two plates, carrying them to the living room and setting them on the coffee table. Keith sat up, arranging the blanket over his lap, and pulled one plate toward him.

“This smells amazing,” he said.

He took a bite even though the cheese was still too hot, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Shiro watched him eat with a deep sense of satisfaction And once they’d devoured everything, he put an arm behind Keith’s shoulders and drew him against his side.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better than an hour ago.”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“Not yet.”

Through the window, the horizon was on fire with the sunset. In a few minutes, they’d lose the light. Even if Keith would sleep soon, Shiro felt uneasy about leaving him alone.

“Is it okay if I stay?” he said. “Here. Tonight.”

Keith curled his fingers into Shiro’s t-shirt. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Shiro swallowed thickly. “You know what I have isn’t curable.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be easy. Probably won’t be pretty either.”

“You think I care about that?” Keith said.

“I want you to understand what you’re getting into.”

“I did a lot of reading when I found out about your disease. I’ve actually known about it for a long time. When I was with you at the hospital, I overheard the doctors talking. I’ve read that hydrotherapy can be beneficial, that people can swim even after they can’t walk anymore.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Shiro was a little shocked.

“I _know_ that’s a possibility,” Keith continued. “But I’m in this if you are.”

“And when it’s not _just_ a possibility?”

“Dude, I’m half fish. If you can accept that, I’ll accept anything about you.”

Keith made it sound so easy. Shiro smiled against his hair. “Then…what are you doing next week?”

“Probably filling out job applications,” Keith groaned.

“What’s wrong with the job you have?”

“They tend to fire you when you don’t show up to work for a couple weeks.”

“In that case, do you want to take a trip while I have time off?”

“Where to?”

“About three hundred fifty miles west.”

Keith lifted his head. “The Pacific?”

“I owe you a thank you gift now that I can swim.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Keith mumbled. He lay down and rested his head on Shiro’s lap. “What if we go in the other direction?”

“I’ve never been to the Carolinas outside of an airport,” Shiro said, idly stroking Keith’s hair.

“Should we drive? It’d take a couple days, but it might be fun.”

Shiro’s chest felt warm at the promise of several days on the road with Keith, long hours in the car with the windows down and the wind in his hair, stopping to take pictures at offbeat roadside attractions, nights in a motel. He’d never taken a trip like that with anyone.

He looked out the window at the darkening sky.

“I don’t mind driving.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic for another recipient in the Shiro Birthday Exchange. It was going to be a comedy of errors, but my recipient dropped and I dropped this fic. When I dusted it off to finish it as a pinch hit, Tex popped into my head and I wrote this version instead! In retrospect, I'm glad I got to sit on it. 
> 
> The restaurant where Keith and Shiro regularly had dinner was inspired by Pokedon in Tempe, Arizona and I really, really wish I could go there. The other restaurant was inspired by Buck & Rider in Phoenix. Both were purely used as inspiration and shouldn't be read as literal locations.
> 
> The title is from _Oceans_ by Seafret.
> 
> Keith's necklace looks [something like this](https://www.etsy.com/listing/657211207/10mm-white-nugget-pearl-and-suede-cord?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=pearl+cord+necklace&ref=sc_gallery-1-1&plkey=44b5f35867108711ac46c0e05d3403d8fc76f9f0%3A657211207&col=1) but the pearl is silver. The day I sat down to finish this, I found a pearl necklace on the floor of my closet—one my sister didn't wear anymore and had given to me. It's a single white pearl inside of a gold heart. I'll think of Sheith every time I wear it.
> 
> If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. If you're on Twitter, I hope you'll [come say hello](https://www.twitter.com/museawayfic)!


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